Corrupted Prayers
by bunny-loverXIV
Summary: a corrupted Preacher gets a deadly rude awakening. Two-shot, supposed to be a one-shot currently too lazy to finish it in one go. slightly inspired by the anime. pre-manga.
1. part I

(Key: _at italics mean –thoughts_

"" _quotations in italics are remembering something someone said_

() are author's notes

{} line said over a phone)

* * *

"-AND IF YOU PRAY TO THE HOLY LORD YOU SHALL BE SAVED!" The preacher lectured on loudly. "If you trust in the way of God then he will lead you to salvation! Even the most tainted souls can be saved if they believe!"

* * *

"... **Bullshit.**" a figure hidden in the crowd muttered to himself.

* * *

"And now I'd like to bring your attention to a very important matter." The preacher continued. "As you know our current mayor is up for reelection and I believe it is time for a change. Mayor Anderson has become **corrupt **and no longer cares. We need a mayor that cares about our family values, that cares about our churches, someone who will support the community in hard times as well as good. I am here to tell you that, that candidate is Rick Johnson! He is the one we should vote for. He will support our families and our churches! He is a man who believes as strongly in God as I do. He is the man who is best for our fair city! He cares about our families! He will not let anything change his mind about his policies unlike our current mayor who has let corruption steer him off his path! He has gone back on his campaign promises! And plans to take money out of the educational system! For our children's future we must vote for Rick Johnson! "

* * *

As soon as the sermon ended, the preacher was surrounded by people showering him in praise and questions.

"Excellent sermon father Isaac."

"Thank you but I'm just doing my job to the holy Lord." he responded.

"Father! Is it true what you said? About Mayor Anderson being corrupt?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it is."

* * *

It took the preacher nearly 20 minutes until the crowds cleared out. He breathed a sigh of relief as he headed back to his office. The church had completely emptied. No one was there but him. The perfect time to plan his next sermon or maybe his next... moves. He quietly locked the door to his room and settled into his chair. _Maybe I should just take a nap. _

"**Hello Father**... **I've been waiting for you**." A deep, cold voice snarled from behind him.

"Wh-what?! W-who are you?" The father could feel the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his neck.

"Chrono Number XIII, Black Cat." The Eraser answered.

"wh-what you want with me? I've done nothing wrong!" He demanded, still shaking.

"You know I listened to your little speech. Aren't you supposed to be preaching the word of God instead of campaigning? Well, I guess the money Johnson's paying you must be enough to compensate for your morals." The assassin continued, "Not that I care. I don't really have morals myself and the entire thing sounded like hot air to me anyways. However you're **right** about one thing. Mayor Anderson who you say is so **corrupt** is **our puppet**. And we **cannot** allow you to try to replace him."

"What?! R-rick t-told me A-Anderson h-had fr-friends in h-high pl-places b-but I n-never expected th-this."

"I guess you should've done your research better. Like I said you are completely right. Mayor Anderson is **nothing more than a tool we use to control this city.** However I'm sure you know a lot about corruption yourself. All that money he promised to give you if he won. Tsk, who better to ask to influence the masses than the most popular preacher in town?"

"i-if y-you k-kill me it will only prove the conspiracy right. I am the only one who speaks against him. He will be forced out of office for sure."

"No, no. That's not how it works. We just need enough people to vote for him so the **fixed election** doesn't seem **rigged**. And **besides I'm not going to kill you... you're going to commit suicide**. I have the **murder weapon** right here."

Isaac was able to turn around to see the assassin taking out a large plastic bag from the inside of his black coat. Inside of the plastic bag was an **old silver revolver**.

"n-no. You don't understand! The money wasn't for me! it was for the church! The people who go here cannot afford to pay the dues! So the church cannot afford its mortgage! I need the money to pay it back! Otherwise I'll lose this place! All these people will have nothing to turn to!"

"Not my problem. I'm just doing my job."

"I will not let everything I worked for turn to nothing!" Isaac screamed, pulling out a knife. He turned to face his assailant… and froze, unable to call out the will to finish the attack.

The assassin immediately grabbed his arm and yanked it behind his back. He let out an agonizing scream as his arm made a horrifying popping noise. "Don't worry it's not broken, it's just dislocated. I'll pop it back into your corpse later. If I broke it, I would ruin the 'evidence.'"

However the preacher stood there bewildered staring at him. Not frozen in shock or terror but in… pity?

"h-how… **how old are you**? Son?"

"huh?" The assassin's yellow cat-like eyes remained stone cold despite the confusion he voiced.

"Why, you couldn't be more than 20…. How old are you? 20? 18?" The preacher questions softly.

"A bit in the middle." The eraser responded.

"Dear God, y-you're only 19 years old?"

"… May I ask you a question preacher? Do you really believe that every man can be saved by God?"

"Yes."

"Even someone whose soul is as corrupted and tainted as mine?"

"Yes! Any soul can be saved. Your soul isn't gone yet, son. You may think there is no hope for you but there is! I can save you! But first you must put down that bloody weapon of yours!"

"… Any man can be saved by God?" The assassin echoed. "so... **will he save you**?" The preacher was not given a moment to answer. **BANG!**


	2. Part II

(a/n) Finally part 2. Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm going back to working on partners now. sorry for the wait on that as well.

* * *

Train pulled the trigger before his target even had a chance to scream. A point-blank shot, right through the side of the skull, splattering the man's brain before his nerves could even feel the pain.

He stared at the corpse for a moment, wanting nothing more than to get this job over and done with. The gloves he had been forced to wear, meant to prevent fingerprints, were driving him crazy. He hated the feeling of having anything on his hands, or more precisely over his trigger finger. No matter how thin or flexible the material was he still felt as if it could somehow mess up his shot. Why did he even have to do this? It wasn't his job to clean up.

He begrudgingly took the silver revolver out of the plastic bag and positioned it within the corpse's fingers. He positioned the hand so the muzzle of the revolver was placed right over where the bullet had previously entered its skull only a few moments ago. He let go; the hand drop down, swinging, the fingers still intertwined with the trigger.

He popped the carcass's dislocated shoulder back into place. As an extra touch, he picked up the knife, which had fallen to the ground after he had ripped the preacher's socket out of his shoulder, and positioned it back in the corpse's hands. He guided the hand and ripped a gash down the cadaver's wrist. It bled even though the heart was no longer beating. He dropped the hand; the newly bloody knife fell to the ground.

He paused for a moment, looking around. Then disappeared out the still open window he had come in. He landed gracefully, three stories below, on his feet. Taking a few steps away from the church he pulled out his phone. Pressing a single button he reported into the phone, "It's done."

{"Very good, Heartnet. Return to base immediately."} The voice at the other end responded.

"Yes ma'am." he replied then hung up. He began to walk down the dark streets heading towards headquarters, listening carefully for police sirens. But he heard nothing but silence. It seemed no one had heard the gunshot. He wondered how long it would be until someone found the preacher's corpse. Would it be left there until the next day? Perhaps no one would bother to find it until the next Sunday. Would the carcass sit there, rotting in the locked room for a week, waiting for someone to find it? Would no one even noticed the preacher was gone without their weekly appointment? How ironic would it be if he was the only preacher in town and there was no one for his funeral? Of course a man of "God" would get some sort of celebration no matter how corrupt he was. However, the preacher wasn't that corrupted compared to others Train had erased. In fact he was on the milder side. Chronos itself had plenty of corrupt politicians and officials working as their pawns.

Suddenly the preacher's words began echoing in his head. "'Any soul can be saved'? Tsk, of all the ways to beg for mercy." Train mused to himself as he walked. "Drop my 'bloody weapon'? Such bullshit. He was obviously trying to get me to spare his life." Train reassured himself. "Why else would he tell me to drop my gun? He's just a lying, cheating, pathetic bastard just like the rest of them. Heh."

_"h-how… how old are you, Son?"_

Train nearly jumped as the preacher's words suddenly echoed in his head. "God Dammit." He muttered as he ripped open the back door to Chronos headquarters and walked inside.

* * *

(a/n) like many characters Train is constantly struggling with his morals and conscious. Except in his days at Chronos he was struggling the "wrong way". instead of fighting to find what's right and what he should do, he was fighting To swallow his morals and forget what's right and wrong because that has nothing to do with him nor his job. I wanted to do a story where I would show him struggling with the guilt and fighting against it. If you are mentally screaming for him to Walk out of the building and not go in then you got the feeling of the story.  
First fic I ever did without humor in it.

((All the text in the story is Purely based off the manga and head canon))


End file.
